Stephen Randel - The Chupacabra

“Private Zulu!” Avery yelled over the wind as he pounded on the headquarters’ front door. Getting no reply, he tried the door handle. It was locked. Checking his watch, Avery realized it might be several more hours before Private Zulu showed up. He didn’t feel like waiting. Avery looped his way around the building past three orange ATVs that appeared to have been attacked by a rogue graffiti artist wielding a black shoe polish applicator. Climbing over the scattered debris and weaving past several abandoned oil drums, he checked for another way in.

In the back of the building, he located a ragged window screen that appeared to be loose. Pulling the screen from the windowsill, he pressed the sliding glass windowpane upwards. It was unlocked. Hurriedly, he opened the window as wide as it would go. It was just enough for the portly Avery to wedge himself through. Looking around, Avery spotted two wooden pallets. Stacking them at the base of the window, he stood on them as he tried to climb headfirst through the open window. Leaning in and holding the heavy autopsy manual out in front of him, he squeezed his upper body through the opening. When he was halfway through, the fanny pack resting underneath his bulbous gut caught itself on the windowsill. Not able to slide forward anymore with the fanny pack anchoring him in place, he tried extracting himself backward from the window, but holding the heavy manual in his hands, he found he couldn’t move that way, either.

Beginning to panic, as the awkward position was making it increasingly difficult to breathe, Avery realized he had no choice but to drop the large book into the room and use his hands to pry himself free. The book landed in the room with a thud as Avery used his hands to rock himself back and forth, his pudgy face beginning to turn scarlet from lack of oxygen. On his third try, Avery felt himself finally tipping forward. With one last swing, he somersaulted into the room, landing with a loud thump on the floor. Avery lay there until he got his wind back. Climbing to his feet, he picked up his book and went to search for the light switch. Clicking on the light, he noticed the room was bare except for a few closets on one side of the room. As he went to explore the rest of the vacant headquarters, he placed his reference manual on a rectangular folding table in the building’s main room.

“Okay, Private Zulu,” Avery mumbled. “Where the hell is my damn chupacabra?”

Avery noticed a doorway that appeared to lead to some kind of mess hall. Entering the kitchen area, he found a large refrigerator next to a walk-in deep freeze. Avery opened the refrigerator, praying that his precious cargo would be there and not frozen solid in the deep freeze. Immediately, the enormous bundle of silver duct tape taking up the entire bottom shelf of the fridge caught his attention.

Lifting the stiff, heavy bundle, he carried it into the main room and set it on the table. With nervous anticipation, Avery removed the scalpel from his fanny pack and began to cut through the overlapping layers of tape. The antique scalpel, with less than a razor-sharp edge, took considerable effort on Avery’s part to pierce the multiple layers of tape and blue plastic ground cloth underneath. Eventually, Avery was able to open an eight-inch slit in the bundle. Pulling the parcel’s wrapping apart with his fingers, he gazed in rapture at the skull of his elusive chupacabra. Stiff with rigor mortis, the animal’s lips had receded to reveal fearsome-looking fangs. A grotesque tongue hung out of the side of its mouth. Avery’s eyes widened as he examined the creature’s smooth dark skin and canine skull that matched all the research that he’d done on chupacabras over the preceding months. Convinced he had just reached one of the greatest peaks in cryptozoology, Avery punched his hand in the air, pointing his scalpel to the heavens above.

“Kiss my butt, Darwin!” Avery exclaimed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he cried as he did a ridiculously poor version of the cabbage patch dance. “Yes, baby! Yes!”

“No,” replied the sinister, deep voice from behind him. Avery froze. “Turn around,” the menacing voice ordered. Avery slowly turned and faced the biggest, most evil-looking man he had ever seen. Avery trembled at the sight of his dark eyes. It didn’t help matters that the incredibly muscular man was pointing a silenced pistol at him.

“How did you get in here?” Avery asked.

“The same way you did,” El Barquero replied. “Now, where’s the shipment?”

“The what?” Avery nervously replied.

“From last night in the desert,” El Barquero said as he leveled the pistol directly at Avery’s face. “Three bundles, wrapped in burlap.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I’m not a member of this militaristic fraternity,” Avery stammered. “I’m just here to pick up this specimen. It’s a very significant scientific find. One of a kind.”

El Barquero looked at the head of the strange-looking animal wrapped in silver tape on the table. He swung his pistol from Avery to the animal and fired a single shot into middle of its body. The bullet left a perfect hole in the duct tape outer wrapping; the smell of gunpowder filled the room.

“It’s a coyote,” El Barquero growled.

“You son of bitch!” Avery spat as he grabbed the silver-wrapped bundle and clutched it to his breast. “You might as well burn the Shroud of Turin or paint a mustache on the Mona Lisa. I won’t let you desecrate this international treasure.”

“Find my shipment.”

“I told you, I don’t know where it is,” Avery replied as he cuddled his rotting, mangy coyote corpse, shielding it from the imposing man’s aim.

“Two minutes,” said El Barquero as he leveled the gun again at Avery’s head. “Start looking.”

“Okay, okay,” replied Avery as he released the dead coyote. “Just don’t hurt the chupacabra.”

“It’s dead.”

“That’s not the point,” Avery replied as he began looking around the headquarters and wondering where the shipment might be. “Three bundles, three burlap bundles,” he muttered as he paced around the room, opening file cabinets and storage lockers. Avery spotted what looked like an office on the far side of the room and shuffled toward it with El Barquero, his pistol still aimed at Avery, in tow. Avery frantically searched General X-Ray’s darkened office, doing anything possible to buy himself some time. El Barquero entered the General’s office and turned on the light. He walked over to the desk and pressed the “Play” button on the answering machine.

“This is Avery Bartholomew Pendleton of Austin, Texas,” the message began. “This message is for one Private Zulu. I made an earlier departure than I thought and with one minor mechanical…”

“Is that you?” asked El Barquero.

“Yes. I told you I wasn’t one of them,” replied Avery as he looked inside a coat closet. Maps and paperwork tumbled out as he opened the door.

“Then I guess I really don’t need you,” El Barquero said as he aimed his weapon at Avery.

“Wait! Stop!” Avery pleaded. “I’ve still got thirty seconds. Hold on. In the back, come on.” Avery hustled out of the office and toward the back room where he’d entered through the window. El Barquero followed him. Spotting the closets in the back room, he quickly searched one and then the other. There in the second closet rested three large, square burlap bundles with improvised shoulder straps attached to them.

“Move them to the front.” El Barquero ordered. For the next few minutes, Avery struggled to drag the heavy loads into the main room.

“ Voilà !” said Avery as he wiped the sweat from his brow, not sure if it was from the physical exertion or nervous perspiration. “Now, you’ve got what you want, and I’ve got what I want. I suggest we both head off with our respective possessions before Private Zulu arrives, and none will be the wiser. Fair deal. Good trade, I think. Happy ending for us all, mister, uh, I didn’t catch your name, did I?”